


Zenniet's Kinktober 2019

by Zenniet



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Come Inflation, Inflation, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Lingerie, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Premature Ejaculation, Scissoring, Shibari, Sleepy Sex, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Suspension, Threesome - M/M/M, Tribadism, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-23 13:49:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: All my 2019 Kinktober works. Will be occasionally updated. Check zenniet.tumblr.com for all my kinktober works when they first come out.Might not do all the days, but let's see how far I can go.





	1. Handjobs, Distention, Suspension - Rodimus/Drift/Ratchet

Besides a little ache in his spoiler, Rodimus was feeling better than he thought he would. This wasn’t his idea, far from it, the thought was actually from Ratchet. Now that was something neither of the speedsters expected, but they both welcomed the idea.

Not only did Ratchet pitch the thought of tying one of them up from the ceiling, he had requested that it be Rodimus _specifically_. Something about Drift being too used to things like that. Now _that_ was something that Rodimus wanted to investigate. Not now, though. Not with his arms tied behind his back and his frame lifted just above the berth by the sleek red rope on the hooks in the ceiling. 

The pose wasn’t anything fancy, Rodimus just registered it as “kneeling but sideways” and that was just fine with him. Ratchet had tied back his calves to the backs of his thighs and stuck a spreader bar between his legs, so the speedster was putting on quite a show as his valve grew only more slick.

“You look amazing, Rod’.” Drift sighed, kneeling on the berth next to Rodimus and letting his servos lightly dance over his frame as he felt his partner’s warming plating. “Can’t wait to mess with you like this.”

“What’s your safeword again?” Ratchet asked, not so much to remind himself, but to remind Rodimus. 

“Safeword,” Rodimus noted with a chuckle, “I’m going to be fine, Ratchet. Now can you just get to doing whatever it is you’ve got in mind?”

Ratchet got up onto the berth with the other two, carrying a box. He opened it up, keeping it tilted away from the speedsters’ prying optics. His servos returned with a toy and closed the box before the other two could see what was in it.

He held up a long, thick spike and a bottle of something, though something was strange with the spike. At the base of it was a long, thin, clear tube.

“I’m not going to tell you what this is,” Ratchet noted, rubbing the tip of the toy through Rodimus’ wet valve petals, “Because you said, and I’m quoting this here, ‘I can take anything you can do’. But remember that there’s no shame in tapping out.”

“What I said earlier still stands, Ratch’.” Rodimus chuckled, wiggling a little bit in anticipation. His spoiler tried to move and twitch, only for the sensitive edges to be rubbed up against the rope. 

Ratchet pushed the blunt head of the toy into the speedster, eliciting a soft gasp and a hitch in his vents. Any further sound Rodimus could make was swallowed up by Drift when the swordsmech claimed his lips in a heated kiss. 

The girth of the toy stretched Rodimus. Not to the point of pain, but enough to give him a pleasant sting. Ratchet got no more than halfway in before pulling to false spike back out and thrusting it into Rodimus’ valve again, getting a little bit deeper each time. The force had Rodimus swinging just a bit, though Drift’s hold in his torso did help stop some of that movement.

It wasn’t long before Rodimus was panting, little clipped moans leaving his vocalizer, his spoiler twitching and fighting against the rope as his charge rose. Drift left his lips, shifting and moving to be behind him. Rodimus couldn’t turn his helm enough to see what was happening, but before he had time to ask, Drift’s servo was on his spike. 

“Drift! Ra-_anh! _Frag, _Ratchet!” _He yelped, feeling Drift squeeze his spike almost too tightly while the toy in Ratchet’s servo bumped and prodded at his ceiling node. His visual feed shorted, his optics flickering before he squeezed them shut. Engine rumbling in a low growl, he tried to buck his hips against the toy.

“Ratchet, frag, yes, yes- _ooohhh,” _He mumbled, voice hardly above a muzzled moan. “I’m close, please, please- ngh! Please don’t stop!” His charge crested to a peak and his voice rose to a moan, spike covering Drift’s servo in transfluid while his valve soaked the toy inside of it.

Just as he was coming down from his overload, though, he felt a sudden rush of something fill his valve. He yelped and squirmed, opening his optics and turning his helm just enough to see Ratchet holding a bottle of something pink, with the fake spike’s clear tube attached to the top. Ratchet gave the bottle another squeeze and another spurt of mock transfluid flowed through the spike to fill Rodimus up.

Another hard press on the bottle made Rodimus’ abdominal plating begin to bulge, and another had it swelling. The last one, now halfway down the bottle, brought with it another harsh overload that made Rodimus buck and shudder, crying out while his valve cycled down and forced out some of the fake transfluid.

His vents shakily tried to cool his frame down, and when his visual feed managed to start back up, he saw Ratchet inspecting his own arm, which was covered with long streaks of the false fluid.

“That was _so_ hot,” Drift murmured, looking over Rodimus’ frame while Ratchet did the same. 

“Come on, let’s get him down.” Ratchet chuckled, “You support him, I’ll undo the ropes.”

Though Rodimus didn’t really understand what was being said. All he felt was the warm hold of Drift, then the pressure along his frame dropping. He vaguely registered Ratchet taking a step back from him, presumably to take a picture, but he couldn’t be bothered with the mess he must be. 

But he did make a mental note to ask Ratchet about more of his fantasies some other time.


	2. Sleepy Sex, Underwear - Rodimus/Drift/Ratchet

Rodimus couldn’t deny that his two partners were incredibly attractive. He didn’t initially see why Ratchet had the idea to try to make them more so.

That is, until he actually saw it for himself.

The thin, white, lacy undergarment that draped over his body was alluring, and it did nothing to hide anything at all. Rodimus had heard it called a ‘babydoll’ before, the revealing chest piece flowed down into a short, almost dress like piece of fabric. Behind it, he could see the more opaque, still not quite concealing, panty that went with it. Just wearing it and seeing himself in it made him feel particularly… Special. He felt pretty in it, like he really was something to be desired.

Drift had been given something almost matching, except in black.

Needless to say, once Ratchet walked Rodimus out of the washracks where he had been putting on the lingerie, and when they’d all seen each other, Rodimus was eager to more or less drag all three of them to the berth. Even after wringing out three overloads from himself and about the same for the other two, Rodimus was still raring to go, but he couldn’t ignore his need to recharge at that point.

When he woke up, he was pleased to find himself, and Drift, still in their lingerie from the night before. His array warmed as he realized what he must look like, face flushed with his panties now marked by his own lubricant and the others’ transfluid.

He huffed, tossing and turning in the berth, almost hoping that it would wake at least one of his partners. And it did. Drift’s optics cracked open and he looked Rodimus up and down,

“Roddy?” He mumbled, “It’s still early, what’re you doing up?” Rodimus looked away, pretending that he wasn’t just ogling Drift’s sleeping form,

“Nothing, ‘s just- well-”

“You’re revved up, aren’t you?” Drift chuckled, though he didn’t look any more awake than when he’d first spoken. Rodimus pouted, then dropped the thought of trying to deny it.

“Y-yeah,” He admitted sheepishly, “Can we…” Why was asking so hard this morning? He usually had no issue with just out of the blue dragging Drift or Ratchet off to frag, but something about this whole situation made him just a bit embarrassed about it all. Maybe it was that he’d woken Drift up? Or that Ratchet was asleep right next to him?

“Mmmph, you can frag me, but I want to go back to sleep afterwards.” Drift said, adjusting his position. He laid on his side and lifted one of his legs and Rodimus took the cue immediately. Rodimus’ spike paneling shifted aside, his length pressurizing into the confines of his panties. He shifted closer to Drift and reached down to free his spike and pull Drift’s underwear aside. Behind the lacy black shield, Drift was already wet, and his biolights were already pulsing.

Rodimus wasted no time in quickly thrusting into Drift, but even with the bevity of it, he only elicited a light sigh from Drift. The swordsmech hiked his leg up to rest on Rodimus’ waist, and one of his servos lightly held onto one of the red speedster’s shoulders, but he didn’t reciprocate much besides that. 

Rodimus thought Drift looked heavenly. His helm resting against the soft pillow beneath it, his lips barely parted in soft little moans, the looseness in his frame and the tightness of his valve. Rodimus thrust into him as best he could with the position, his hips snapping back and forth against the berthsheet.

His overload more or less took him by surprise, with a sudden bolt of heat in his systems and a gasp, he overloaded hard into Drift, who gave a soft whimper as he reached his own climax. The swordsmech rolled his hips leisurely while he rode out his and Rodimus’ overloads. 

Sighing contentedly, Rodimus pulled back and gave Drift a kiss. Now that, Drift reciprocated.


	3. Tribadism - Megatron/Rodimus

Megatron had had his doubts going into this. Of course he did, he had his doubts doing anything with Rodimus, but the potential benefits always did outweigh them. Not this time though.

He couldn’t see any justification for Rodimus wanting to do anything that involved Megatron using his own valve. He had believed that Rodimus enjoyed his spike, it was easy to tell that he did, but Megatron really should have expected the adventurous young prime to want to try something new eventually.

“Well, I don’t have to spike you if that’s what you’re worried about,” Rodimus had shot back when Megatron expressed a little bit of discomfort with the idea, “I’m pretty good with my glossa, anyways.”

“Can-” Megatron didn’t know where he was going with that, “… Fine.” He said, trying to mask his hesitance.

And that’s what led up to it. No mention of what Megatron was even so nervous about. The truth was, he hadn’t used his valve in quite some time. There were a few reasons for that. Firstly, he was usually the bigger partner in his relationships and the occasional tryst, which meant that whoever he was with would usually assume that he wanted to use his spike, and it wasn’t as if he minded that. That wasn’t what he was concerned about now, though. He was concerned about how sensitive his valve tended to be. Those occasional times that he would get to use his valve always had him overloading much too quickly for his liking, or being far too loud.

Rodimus took the initiative now, kissing at Megatron’s jawline and working his way down his neck, occasionally leaving a little nip or bite just to hear the stutter in Megatron’s cooling system. Large, gray servos held Rodimus’ aft, their usual spot, but that wasn’t exactly enough to convince Rodimus that he was enthusiastic.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Rodimus asked with a huff, pulling back and sitting back on his legs. Megatron knew that he couldn’t get out of it,

“My valve can be… sensitive.” Megatron murmured. How uncharacteristic.

“Is…” Rodimus’ brow creased and a near incredulous smile grew on his lips, “Is that it?” His words were almost a laugh. Surprising the speedster, Megatron’s cheeks flushed. “Do you think that… You think I care about that?”

“I might not la-”

“I don’t give a scrap about how long you last, Megs,” Rodimus said, leaning back over Megatron now that he knew that he hadn’t done anything wrong earlier. “I just wanna make you feel good. And from what you’re saying,” His servo skated down Megatron’s front to land at his hip plating, “This’ll make you feel _really_ good.”

Megatron’s engine purred at that, what a rare sound. With a quick “May I?” Rodimus continued where he’d left off, kissing down Megatron’s frame, stopping at his chest markings, then proceeding down his abdominal plating before-

“Open up for me,” Rodimus growled upon arriving at Megatron’s sealed valve paneling. Glancing off to the side with half lidded optics and tinted cheeks, Megatron sent through the command to disengage his panel.

He was _ashamed _of how wet his valve was. His lubricant freely dripped and pooled beneath his hips. Rodimus immediately dived to press his lips to Megatron’s valve, glossa licking up his soaked valve petals. He moaned against the mesh, only for Megatron to respond in kind, bringing up his servo to bite down on his knuckles.

“Rodim- _Agh!” _He gasped when Rodimus sealed his lips over his anterior node and sucked, laving his glossa over the sensitive nub. Megatron’s hips jumped in Rodimus’ grasp. The stimulation almost hurt, it was so, _so_ much, where Megatron rarely ever received.

He wasn’t going to whimper or cry out if he could help it, but he really couldn’t keep back the gasps and moans and growls that left him. His breath was labored, his vents worked overtime to keep him from overheating, and his grip on the berth was almost enough to tear the berthsheets even though his other servo holding Rodimus’ helm was far more lenient. 

“Rodimus, Rodimus, _frag!” _Megatron snarled, his hips rolling up and grinding against Rodimus’ mouth of their own will. “_I’m…!”_

He didn’t get out much more before Rodimus pushed the full length of two of his digits into Megatron, sending the larger mech crashing into his overload. His vocalizer sobbed static and he rutted and humped against Rodimus’ lips.

As soon as his overload ebbed, Rodimus was pulling away. Megatron had just enough time to catch a glimpse of his lubricant coated lips before he licked them clean and switched his position.

He slipped one leg under one of Megatron’s, and the other over then, in one quick move, disengaged his valve panel and pushed himself down, thrusting his valve up against Megatron’s.

Megatron shouted in surprise and the sudden shock of stimulation, his legs instinctively trying to close only to be kept apart by Rodimus’. With a devilish grin, the speedster immediately started canting his hips, rubbing his valve against Megatron’s.

Red optics flickering, charge leaping through his frame, Megatron could do nothing but reciprocate and mirror Rodimus’ motions. He rolled his hips, jostling Rodimus with the force of his movement. Megatron couldn’t think, he barely knew what he was doing. All he knew was to chase the pleasure that Rodimus so graciously gave him.

It didn’t take much more to have his back arching and frame quivering in another powerful overload, one that had lubricant jetting from his valve and making a mess at the join of their frames. 

Megatron couldn’t register the shaky moans that left him, the sharp notes of static and the roaring of his engine, but Rodimus did. Rodimus did, and it was a symphony to his audio receptors, and he’d do anything to hear it again. 

Rodimus lost count of how many times Megatron must have overloaded before he got his first. When that heat washed over him, Megatron was shuddering but he didn’t stop the grind of his hips, not until Rodimus did. And when he finally did stop, he collapsed back onto the berth, chest heaving with his venting. His legs trembled, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the exertion or the remnants of his charge.

Tired too, Rodimus crawled up to the top of the berth and flopped down next to Megatron, immediately getting as close to him as he could.

“Heh, you’re all messy,” Rodimus sung, eyeing the streaks of lubricant that covered the inside of Megatron’s thighs.

All the other mech did was sigh and pull his partner closer.


End file.
